


a quick one

by Maowzers



Category: Rock Music RPF, The Who (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, First Time, M/M, RPF, Roleplay, john is an experienced lover and pete...is not, slight alcohol abuse?? idk theyre fuckin rockstars waht do u expect, technically pete's 'first time' with a guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 03:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maowzers/pseuds/Maowzers
Summary: pete...gay(i had late 60's in mind for this like '68 or '69)





	a quick one

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this lil fucklet from a prompt from frippandeno @ tumblr  
> i mightve interpreted the prompt a tad bit differently LMAO  
> also i got waaay too into writing this, i've been tweaking with it off and on for the past couple days now  
> i also havent the slightest idea how good/bad this turned out tbh so...enjoy

Yet another late-night typical loud Who concert. They were kicking off their North American tour and the first night had been a massive success.

It was post-concert and Pete was taking shots of liquor in his backstage dressing room, alone. All the other band members had chosen to go and attend some sort of after-party, which just so happened to take place in the same concert hall.

 _‘Probably all getting plastered and fishing for groupies...’_ Pete thought to himself, opting to keep himself company instead.

He recalled Roger’s look of utter disbelief when he stated he’d rather skip the party and drink alone.

* * *

 

“...Y’sure you don’t wanna go, Pete?” Roger had questioned for about the third time in a row.

Truthfully, it wasn't typical of Pete to skip such a lovely opportunity to drink and be a dumb ass. Tonight, though, just the mere thought of partying and mingling with a crowd of strangers made Pete’s stomach churn.

“I’m sure. I just need to mull over some of my thoughts, alone.” Mumbled Pete, “Come get me when you lads are lookin’ to leave. Don’t let any of ‘em get into trouble.”

“John and Keith _not_ getting into trouble? Good one,” Roger rolled his eyes, “But uh yeah, sure. Whatever.”

And that was that.

* * *

 

Pete looked around the dressing room. There was a mini-cooler filled with complimentary drinks (Pete had settled for an always reliable favorite: brandy), a couch, a mirror and some music equipment. Pete snickered, noticing how the room almost resembled a prison cell with the brick walls, steel door, dim lighting, compact size and complete lack of windows.

He took another swig of Brandy.

Pete could feel the drunken dizziness gradually taking over with each passing shot; a feeling he’d grown to both love and hate.

He looked in the mirror and examined his appearance. His trademark white boiler suit was drenched in sweat. His messy, damp fringe stuck to the top of his forehead and his weary eyes drooped a bit.

_‘You look like utter hell, lad.’_

Pete rubbed his eyes. His ears would not stop ringing and his weary head continued to throb. The liquor helped numb the feeling. Pete went to lie atop the couch. He gazed at the ceiling and began thinking about how fucked up his life was. An almost ritual-like pastime of his.

Performing made him feel more alive than any drug or amount of booze. When all was said and done however, he’d feel like pure shit. Every single time. He was a completely different person onstage, he'd have zero self-control, almost as though he was being possessed.

To Pete, performing was like an unsustainable addiction. It took a massive mental toll on him to go from euphoric highs to drastic lows all the time. To be honest, it was one of the many reasons he turned to drugs and booze before and after nearly every show. He just couldn't deal with his constant depressive episodes.

Pete’s mind continued to wander, and he suddenly recalled something peculiar that had happened earlier, during the gig.

* * *

 

“This seduction is quite interesting because John plays the engine driver...” Pete spoke to the audience and smirked. “And I play the girl guide...”

The band was playing ‘A Quick One While He’s Away’, a ‘mini-opera’ Pete had written.

The song tells the story of a ‘girl guide’ whose lover was nowhere to found. Her friends inform her that they “have a remedy”; said remedy comes in the form of ‘Ivor the Engine Driver’. The girl's lover eventually returns, the girl confesses her infidelity, and she is ultimately forgiven.

Well that was at least the gist of it. Pete was quite fond of it, being one of the most complicated pieces he's ever put together.

A few minutes into the song and the ‘Ivor’ bit in which John would sing lead commenced.

“Little girl, why don't you stop your crying? Here comes Ivor the engine driver to make you feel alright...” Pete looked over his right to John, who somehow managed to look both deeply concentrated and apathetic at the same time.

“My name is Ivor, I'm an engine driver. I know him well, I know why you feel blue...” John’s eyes locked onto Pete’s, taking the guitarist by surprise, “Just 'cause he's late don't mean he'll never get through. He told me he loves you, he ain't no liar, I ain't either, So let's have a smile for an old engine driver...” John seemed as though he was completely immersed in the ‘Ivor’ role. His piercing gaze never leaving Pete’s sight.

 _‘Why the fuck is he staring at me like that?’_ Pete wondered, but continued to play on nonetheless.

“Let’s have a smile for an old engine driver...Better have a smile for an old engine driver...” Pete joined in singing backup as John continued singing lead. Pete’s higher voice being a perfect contrast to John’s.

The more Pete watched John, they more he couldn't help but feel enamored by him and his performance.

Pete never had ‘intimate’ thoughts involving any other Who members before, but Christ, the way John stared him down with those piercing blue eyes...

Oddly enough, it was beginning to ‘excite’ him.

Pete ignored the confusing arousal that began to pool in his lower half, opting to press on with the song.

Eventually it was time for Pete to take lead again, once more as the ‘girl guide’.

“I missed you and I must admit I kissed a few and once did sit on Ivor the Engine Driver's lap and later with him, had a nap...” Pete smirked, sneaking another peek at John.

John was already staring back at him too, much to Pete's bewildered delight.

_‘There’s that damn look again...’_

* * *

 

Pete recalled John’s concentrated gaze, manly stance, and his growl of a voice. He could feel himself physically growing hard just at the mere thought of it.

_‘I suppose I’ve time for a quickie...’_

Without a second thought, Pete began hurriedly unzipping his boiler suit. He took a sharp inhale, yanking down his underwear and freeing his already semi-erect member. Pete took firm hold of himself and let out a pleased sigh of relief.

The thought of sleeping with another man had crossed Pete’s mind, sure. Multiple times, as a matter of fact.

 _‘Doesn't everyone have those thoughts?’_ He would always reason with himself before and after cranking it to the idea.

Typically, these fantasies were always with another member of a different band; Mick Jagger being a reoccurring one.

But...John? Johnny Entwistle? Pete’s number one bloke since boyhood? It sounded so wrong and filthy.

Yet, it still turned him on.

“Fuckin’ Hell, John...” Pete moaned aloud as he began teasing and softly toying with his own nipple. He used a mixture of his own spit and pre-cum as lube.

Pete’s fantasies involving the same sex almost always ended up with Pete himself taking on the more submissive role. With John, it was no different.

“Aw yeah, fuck my arse, Johnny...”

Pete couldn't believe the words leaving his own mouth.

Yet, it still felt right, almost as though it was a long time coming.

“Aah, John, don’t stop,” Pete gasped, imagining that his own hand was John’s.

He was already extremely close.

Before pure bliss could have a chance to fully take over Pete’s body, the dressing room door swung open.

John’s eyes widened at the sight before him, “Christ, Pete.” He quickly averted his gaze.

Pete fumbled to cover himself. He was a combination of surprised, angry, and embarrassed. He was mostly angry, though.

John went to shut the door, but Pete protested before he could, “Oh, come the fuck on, John. I’ve walked in on you screwing groupies how many fuckin’ times while you were wasted?”

“That’s different,” Replied John, still refusing to look Pete in the face. “I almost would've rather seen you shagging it up with someone than just...you.”

“I suppose that’s fair...Still, the very least you can do is tell me why the hell you’re in here in the first place.” Complained Pete as he zipped up his suit.

“I just needed to grab my bass,” John pointed to a case near all the other equipment and instrument gear, “Roger also wanted me to pass on the message that the rest of us were leaving in a few minutes.”

Pete fumed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, _‘Fuckin’ Roger...’_

John collected his bass and left the room without another word.

Pete stared at the now-closed door as he continued to process what had just happened. Sure, John could understand that Pete had urges. He'd also managed to play it off rather coolly, but that still didn't stop it from being embarrassing as hell. Why the fuck did John have to walk in on him, of all people? The whole ordeal had sobered Pete up like a cold bucket of water. He contemplated finishing himself off, but the probability of someone interrupting him again was too high. Not to mention he'd had just about enough of the same, boring dressing room.

Pete searched the mini-cooler for more booze. His eyes lit up at the sight of the last bottle of unopened brandy. He began pondering if he should take it with him or not.

 _‘One more for the road.’_ He thought to himself as he retrieved the bottle and left the room.

* * *

 

“There you are, Pete,” Said Roger, “Sorry, but Keith and I already paid for our own separate cab-”

“How bloody convenient!”

“What’s your problem? Too much time spent alone with your own thoughts?” Roger quipped, taken aback from Pete’s attitude.

“Let’s gooo, Roger, I’ve got places to be!” Keith called out from inside the cab, “I ain’t gettin’ any younger!”

Roger reluctantly looked back at Pete and let out a sigh, “Have a good night, Pete. Stay safe.”

“Why don’t you just piss off already!”

Roger shook his head and got in the cab with Keith.

After the cab had sped away, John walked up to Pete.

“Hey, I saw that. What did Roger do this time?” John questioned as he took a long drag from his cigarette.

“He’s just bein’ a fuckin’ wank stain, as usual.” Pete huffed, “Can I hitch a ride? I haven't got a single penny on me.”

John exhaled an impressive cloud of smoke, “...Sure, why not.”

* * *

 

While in the car, Pete could tell John had been drinking as well. He wasn't as vocal as say, Keith was while drunk, but it was definitely noticeable when he’s had one too many. This was one of those times. One of the other big indicators being his sluggish, sloppy driving. It didn't worry Pete too much though, who was too busy working on getting his own buzz back to even notice at first. It was late at night and the streets were mostly abandoned, so all John had to do was concentrate on not running into anything or getting lost.

“John, where the fuck are we?” Pete asked, taking a swig of booze.

“I don’t know.” John swerved the car a bit, “I’m not too familiar with this area. Then again, it _is_ dark outside and I _am_ a bit tipsy...”

 _‘A bit..?’_ Pete scoffed, _‘Yer fuckin’ plastered, mate...’_

Pete soon grew too impatient for John’s slow driving, “Let’s just spend the night at some shitty hotel.”

“I thought you were broke?”

“...I was sort’ve hopin’ you’d cover that.”

“I suppose I could.”

Pete thanked his lucky stars that John was such an understanding bloke. Well, at least _drunken_ John was.

“You're a much better mate than Roger or Keith, y’know...” Pete slurred, giving John a firm pat on the shoulder. “...Bastards left me there to fend for myself.”

John chuckled, “Thank you.”

That’s when Pete noticed that, when intoxicated, he was more easily tempered, but John was a lot nicer.

He really liked that about John.

* * *

 

Eventually John and Pete found a hotel that would except them despite their bad reputation among hotels. Said hotel wasn't too bad either. The spacious room came with a color television, a coffee table, a few comfy-looking chairs, a big bay window, a rather large bed, and it’s own private bathroom.

 _‘John must've spent a fortune for this fuckin’ room...’_ Pete thought to himself, noticing the silk bed sheets and curtains.

“When’re you gonna offer me some of this brandy, eh?” John questioned, sitting down on one of the chairs and examining the liquor bottle.

“Lemme take a quick shower and we’ll share the rest of it,” Pete promised, “And don’t start drinkin’ without me!”

John only hummed in response as he lit another cigarette.

Pete closed the restroom door and threw off his lived-in clothes. He squeaked the shower handle on and jumped in. Somehow, the whole ‘masturbating while thinking about John and subsequently getting caught by him’ thing had already slipped his mind entirely. In fact, his mind was mostly a blur as he stood under the pelting hot water. He quickly lost track of time while he began fading in and out of consciousness. A firm knock on the bathroom door awoke him from his daze.

“You okay in there, Pete?”

It was John.

Pete weakly replied, “Uh y-yeah, thanks.”

Pete realized his skin was now noticeably redder and his fingers were already beginning to prune.

_‘How long have I been in here?...I must’ve fuckin’ fell asleep while standin’ up...again.’_

Pete quickly washed his hair and entire body in what must've been a new world record for most-rushed shower. After rinsing, he quickly shut the water off and climbed out the steamy shower. He patted his body and hair down lightly with a fluffy, white towel. Realizing he really shouldn't put the same dirty clothes back on, he decided to go without em.

John would understand, right?

He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door.

“You look like you just stepped off the ‘Sell Out’ cover.” John laughed, his voice sounded deeper and slurred. Yeah, he was definitely still drunk.

“Really now?” Pete wiped steam off the restroom mirror and began admiring his reflection, “Heh, yeah, you’re right. Where’s Odorono when I need it, eh?”

John rose from his chair and walked over to Pete, “M’sorry, I drank nearly half the rest of your brandy ‘ere...You were in there for quite a long time.”

“What the fuck, John?” Pete sighed, “...Well, I guess if you still left me half that’s oka-”

John was getting too close for comfort now, practically invading Pete’s ‘personal’ space. As he got closer, Pete could see that John’s eyes were half-lidded and glazed over.

Pete recognized his expression, the exact same expression he had during the gig. They were almost like...bedroom eyes.

“John, what the fuck are you-”

John’s powerful voice silenced Pete’s confused protest, “Don’t think I didn't fuckin’ notice...” He traced a few fingers along Pete’s arm, sending a shiver up and down his spine.

Pete audibly gulped, not exactly sure what to do, “...Notice what...”

“You starin’ me up and down,” John’s frame was nearly pushing Pete’s against the steamy bathroom wall now, “And the way you were moanin’ my name right before I burst into your dressing room.”

“Oh you heard me, did you? I knew you were a fuckin’ pervert, Entwistle.” Pete joked, figuring this must be a drunken stupor or wet dream. Perhaps a mix of the two.

“Call me Ivor,” John sneered, “Little girl.”

Pete suddenly felt very light-headed. This was no typical stupor. No...this was _very_ real.

John took advantage of Pete’s trance-like state as he began nipping at Pete’s wet, exposed neck.

Pete shuddered, deciding to play along, “...I-I don’t think a girl like me should be doing this, Ivor.”

“Oh c’mon, why not be nice to an old engine driver, eh?” John cooed, “I’m gonna make you feel _much_ better.” John shoved a hand between Pete’s legs and began fondling him through the towel.

Pete cried out, “Oh, Ivor...”

John coaxed Pete into the other room, “I can tell you’re a bit scared. Let’s calm you down some, yeah?” John sat down on a chair perpendicular to the bed and pat his thigh, “Come sit on Ivor’s lap, girl.”

Pete was still clad in just the towel, which didn't do much help hiding his growing erection. He did as John had asked, following him and sitting atop his lap.

“Drink some of this, hun.” John poured a shot for Pete and he took it.

“Thanks Ivor, but that tastes a bit...weird.”

“Good.” John chuckled, rubbing Pete’s exposed back up and down, “Where’s my kiss, girl?”

Pete closed his lips and leaned in shyly. It felt as though his heart was in his chest.

_‘Was this really fuckin’ happening right now?’_

John’s tongue traced along Pete’s pouty bottom lip teasingly before finally closing the gap between their mouths. Pete’s teeth clanked with John’s crooked ones as John’s lips nearly bruised Pete’s. John used a free hand to cup Pete’s reddening cheek, deepening the kiss.

John withdrew, leaving Pete with nearly bruised lips and a string of saliva connecting their parted mouths, “Mm, don’t you feel much better now?”

Pete could only nod in agreement as he regained his breath, “I need to get something, make yourself comfortable on the bed.”

Again, Pete obeyed John’s orders and sat atop the large bed. He waited patiently for John, still in slight disbelief that this was real, that this was actually happening.

John soon returned and sank to his knees in front of the bed, “Let’s see what you’re hiding under here...” John removed Pete’s towel, revealing his erect member, “How pretty.”

John took a firm grip of Pete’s length and began pumping it against his own swollen lips, flicking his tongue lightly across the sensitive tip.

Pete bit back a moan, “T-that feels good, Ivor...” He resisted the urge to immediately buck into John’s mouth.

“M’glad you’re enjoyin’ yourself.” John took a long lick from Pete’s balls to his tip, causing Pete to twitch.

“Aah, Ivor, stop teasing...”

John’s hot, wet mouth took in a good half of Pete’s cock as he continued to pump him with one hand and tease his balls with the other. Pete lulled his head back in ecstasy. It took every bit of his self-control not to moan John’s real name at that moment.

Pete raked John’s dyed black hair with one hand and held unto the silk sheets with the other. John expertly swirled his tongue around the head and tip of Pete’s dick, causing Pete to involuntarily arch his back and curse.

“Fuck!”

John withdrew his mouth and tsked, “What a naughty little girl guide...You shouldn't be swearing.” He suddenly got up from the floor and was now climbing atop of Pete, “You hear me, girl?”

Pete could only groan in response as John began rhythmically grinding his pelvis against Pete’s. It was at that moment Pete could finally feel John’s thick bulge through his tight, leather trousers.

John discarded his jacket and top, giving Pete a nice striptease and view of his upper build. Pete felt like a fool for never realizing how damn sexy John was, especially shirtless. Pete’s chest was pale, gaunt, ribby...John’s was meaty, broad, slightly hairy. Basically more ‘man’-like in every sense of the word. It turned Pete on to be dominated by such a well-built man.

If Pete wanted to move whatsoever, he physically couldn't as John’s weight was pinning him to the bed. He settled for rubbing and clawing John’s bare back and shoulders instead. John growled, attacking Pete’s tender neck and collarbone. Pete yelped in response.

“Ivor...” Pleaded Pete.

“What is it, girl?”

“I n-need to feel you inside me...”

“Poor little thing. You’re gettin’ way ahead of yourself...But, if you insist...” John shifted in the bed and climbed off Pete, “Get on all fours.”

Pete did as he asked, feeling extremely vulnerable and sexy in this new position.

“Remember when I went to go get somethin’ earlier? Well, this is that.” John retrieved a bottle of lubricant from the pocket of his trousers, “I have a feeling this is your first time takin’ it up the arse. You sure you want it?”

Pete nodded, “Please, Ivor, I want you to be my first.”

John smirked, “Your boyfriend wasn't your first? What a fuckin’ shitty excuse for a boyfriend...” He popped open the lube and took a rich glob between his fingers, “This might hurt at first, but you’ll grow to love it.”

John inserted a single lubed digit into Pete’s tight virgin ass. Pete squeezed his eyes shut; he’d played with his own arse a few times before, but feeling another person do it was different.

“You feelin’ alright, girl?”

Pete choked back tears as John continued exploring his arse, “Y-yes...It just hurts a little.”

“Don’t worry, soon the pleasure will balance out the pain, kiddo,” John began to slowly insert another finger. And another.

Soon Pete was taking in three fingers like a pro. After enough prodding and teasing, John slowly began removing them, leaving Pete gasping and whining for more.

“What’d I tell you? I think you’re ready for the real thing.” John unbuckled his belt, unzipped his trousers and yanked down his underwear.

“Please... fuck me, Ivor...” Whined Pete as he arched his back and stuck his cute, lubed up arse out.

“What a lovely request, I simply can’t resist.” Grinned John, whom was now positioning himself between Pete’s perfect arse cheeks, “Here we go, hun.”

John slowly began entering him from behind, giving him time to adjust to his size (which, for the record, was much thicker and longer than three fingers). Pete winced a little, biting down on a pillow to keep himself from moaning profanities.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” John sighed, feeling Pete’s tight arse squeeze around him, “Just tell me when you want me to start moving.”

“Start moving...” Pete breathed against the pillow.

John began to slowly guide his dick in and out of Pete. He made sure to caress and calm Pete as he continued stretching his inner walls. Pete soon found himself loving the feeling of cock in his arse. He wondered why the hell he never tried it before. It felt so much more special and good with John being his first as well. Had he not been cared for properly and lubed up, he probably would've had a fit.

“I need you to pound me into the bed, Ivor.” Pete whined as John once again began following his wish.

He was thrusting at a deeper, more steady pace now. The pain increased, but, like John has assured, the pleasure soon overrode it.

John’s hand reached around Pete’s lower half to jack him off from behind. This made Pete nearly sob in pleasure, he almost felt overstimulated.

“God, Ivor, please don’t stop-,” Pete’s breath hitched as John switched his own position in a way that allowed for rougher pounding.

John’s hand went from Pete’s cock to his back, pushing him even deeper into the bed. John leaned down so his broad chest and stomach was now laying atop of Pete’s arched back, he whiffed the freshly shampooed smell of Pete’s nape and licked at it. Pete whimpered.

“Scream Ivor’s name, love,” John’s hot breath tickled Pete’s flushed ear, “I don’t give a fuck who hears.”

“I-Ivor...!” Pete moaned into the pillow.

John pulled Pete’s head back by his damp, neck length hair, “I didn't quite catch that.”

“Ah, Christ! Ivor, fuck!” Pete really couldn't help but curse this time. John didn't seem to care, though.

John lifted Pete up so his back was pressed against John’s chest upright. This new position allowed for John to use the bounciness of the mattress to fuck Pete faster. It also allowed for Pete to push down on John’s cock even harder and once again, deeper. John returned a hand back down to Pete’s throbbing cock to fondle him, causing Pete to let out a string of unintelligible noises, most of which were moaning ‘Ivor’, ‘yes’, and ‘fuck’ over and over again.

Soon, Pete was feeling that all-too-familiar heat begin to pool in his abdomen again.

He was extremely close.

“Ivor, I’m gonna cum-”

“Do it, babe.” John bit down on Pete’s bruised shoulder and sped up his pumping of Pete’s member.

“Ohhh God, fuck yes Ivor!” Pete bucked into John’s palm, spurting out his much needed release unto the bed.

As he came, Pete’s arsehole clenched around John’s cock. It didn't take long after that for John to start cumming as well. John’s cock pulsing inside of Pete only seemed to heightened Pete’s prolonged orgasm.

“Fuckin’ Hell,” John groaned as his softening cock slipped out of Pete’s arse.

“T-that was just what I needed,” Pete panted, “Bloody fantastic...”

“Glad I could be of service.” John huffed as put ‘himself’ back into his trousers and zipped them up.

After buckling his belt, John went to grab the nearly-empty bottle of brandy and took a smooth sip.

Pete knew drinking fucked up his decision-making and emotions, but for once it felt as though this wasn't just another drunken mistake.

_‘Hope I don’t regret saying this...’_

“...I...I love you, Johnny.”

John’s heart skipped a beat, yet he still held his stone-cold composure.

“M’not sure if this is just the alcohol talkin’ but...I love you too.” John replied, rubbing Pete’s back tenderly and handing him the booze.

“I already know you do. Christ, the way you’ve been eyein’ me in the studio lately...” Pete joked as he took a swig of liquor.

Pete shifted in the bed slightly, feeling John’s cum leaking out of him unto the sheets, “We made quite a mess...” He handed the bottle back to John, “...Shouldn't we clean this up?”

“Um, of course,” John scoffed, “Were you bein' serious back there, you’ve really never taken it up the arse before?”

“Yeah,” Pete admitted, “What, and you _have_..? With _who_..!?”

John snickered to himself as he poured himself another shot, the last shot.

“I knew you and Moonie had something goin’ on,” Pete sighed, “Roger owes me money now.”

“What d’you mean, Rog is in on the action too,” Pete’s eyes widened and John took the shot, “Ahh. Alright. Let’s get you and these sheets cleaned up then.”

Pete nodded, realizing he had entered an entirely new era of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> oof  
> so i had no idea how to end this shiz, like every other fuckin thing i've ever written  
> i dont typically write ass like arse but i felt like it fit here so i kept it  
> as always, comments/kudos/etc. are greatly appreciated!  
> i think this might be my longest published thing here? ok its 5am and im tired af bye


End file.
